


Hazbin Hotel: We Have a New Guest!

by VioletReaper



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Angel Gave Stitches Her Name, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28189143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletReaper/pseuds/VioletReaper
Summary: Your name is Stitches. About a week ago, you committed suicide by poisoning to escape being arrested for several dozen counts of vigilante murder and wound up in Hell. You've managed to make a few friends... and a few dozen enemies, but hey! It's Hell! It's to be expected.For the most part, you don't really care who knows you exist... Except for one in particular: Alastor the Radio Demon. As much as you admire his work, you figure you're better off with him unaware of your existence.Too bad for you, he already knows you exist. Even worse, he finds you completely adorable. To the point he claims you as his pet.You have a feeling he's going to completely destroy your sanity. Oh who are you kidding? You didn't have that much in life to begin with. What's a little less in death going to hurt?
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Female Character(s), Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Hazbin Hotel: We Have a New Guest!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You arrive in Hell and are rescued by the local slut.

"Hey, you'ze okay, toots?" an unfamiliar voice disturbed your groggy and aching head. It was masculine yet... feminine. With a slight accent that reminded you of Italian-American gangsters in the movies. "Doll, if ya can hear me, um... Twitch your fingers or somethin'."

You had no idea what was going on, but you flexed the fingers of your left hand. "Holy shit, don't scare me like that," The voice said, and you felt a hand gently roll you onto your side. It was then you realized you were lying on hard asphalt. You didn't remember being anywhere near a road. You forced your eyes open, found your vision was badly blurred.

"You ain't lookin' too good, toots," the pastel pink and white blur in front of you said, still sounding worried. Ugh, your head hurt like a bitch. You're pretty sure you didn't have anything to drink. You would've been able to taste the state alcohol on your tongue. "Can ya stand?"

Huh. Good question. With some effort, you pushed yourself up so your weight was on your elbows, then further up until you were leaning against the wall. Damn, it stunk here. Like... Was that brimstone? Where the hell were you? "Where am I?" Your voice sounds raspy, and your throat feels like you drank battery acid. You rub the heel of your left hand over your eyes, trying to clear your vision.

"Well, to be frank... You're in Hell, Toots." The pastel blur replied, sounding a bit relieved now that you were talking. "Literally."

You froze, blinking once. Finally your vision cleared enough that the person in front of you wasn't just a blur anymore. Instead you were staring at a lanky pastel white and pink guy with four arms. At least... You were pretty sure he was a guy. You couldn't be sure if that he was flaunting boobs or fluff, and the outfit didn't leave much to the imagination.

"You're serious?" You asked, searching his worried mismatched gaze for any sign of treachery or deception. There was none.

"Nah. This really is Hell," he assured you. "Hey, it ain't 'zactly safe out here after dark, but there's dis hotel I'm staying at if ya ain't got a problem with 'clean' livin'."

"There's hotels in Hell?" You couldn't fight the grin on your face. Memories of watching Hotel Hell flashed through your mind. Good times.

"Hey, demons gotta live somewhere," the pastel guy replied. "Aside from bein' a hotbed of sin and crime, Hell ain't all that different from Earth."

"Heh. Fair enough," you conceded with a shrug. The guy helped you to your feet and lent you two arms for support. He was pretty tall, easily 6'5". You only came up to his chin. You didn't remember being six feet tall.

"Name's Angel Dust, toots," he told you. "What do I call you?"

"Call me whatever you like," you replied. "Never liked my given name anyway."

Angel hummed in understanding. "I'll figure something out for ya after we get ya fixed up, toots," he said. "That rip going down the middle of yer face is gonna need stitches, and that rip in yer right cheek is gonna need a patch or something."

As the Spider talked, you took a moment to inspect yourself. Your hand was no longer its normal pale self, but covered in soft midnight black fur. It was also shaped more like a paw than a hand, but somehow seemed to still have the same dexterity. You also couldn't help noticing the sharp claws that now tipped your fingers. Damn, they looked like they could rip through concrete and still slice a tomato. You made a note to yourself to take a good look in a mirror as soon as you could to see what your face looked like.

You followed Angel easily, listening as he told you about Hell and sharing stories about what you each did to wind up down here. You were so distracted by him that you didn't notice the shadow nearby as it tilted its head and grinned menacingly.

Several blocks away, at a cafe for cannibals, a red-clad demon with antlers like a stag was sipping contentedly at his tea, only for his crimson eyes to widen with interest. His ever present grin became an intrigued smirk. "Interesting," he said, his voice sounding like he was talking through a radio. "This could be entertaining..."

* * *

Be Angel Dust. Self-proclaimed slut and drug addict who had somehow survived a full week clean. Ya weren't surprised to meet a New Arrival. People die all the fucking time. No. What surprised yer selfish ass was the way ya felt compelled to _help her._ It would've been fucking easy to leave her there and go on yer merry way, but this annoying voice in the back of yer head told ya that if ya did, ya'd regret it for the rest of yer afterlife. That much regret didn't sound fun at all, and ya figured Charlie and Vaggie might cut ya some slack if ya did a good deed. So here you were, walking a jackalope chick with a huge rip going right down the middle of her forehead to the tip of her nose (through which you could see a thin layer of some stuffing-looking shit between the fabric skin and her fucking _skull_ ) back to the "Happy Hotel".

Admittedly, she was cute. You ain't into chicks, but you're pretty damn sure that if she was in yer line of work, ya'd have some pretty fucking tough competition. Turns out she's down here cos she spiked the water supply of a corrupt politician who hurt her sister. Law enforcement wouldn't do shit, so she took matters into her own hands. Fucker was found dead and rotting in his shower three days later.

And then she went full serial killer mode, poisoning corrupt politicians, cops, even a candidate for the 2020 presidential election. Anyone who refused to do right by the people they'd been elected by just cos it wasn't profitable met a painful death.

"But they figured out it was me eventually, " she was saying. "I knew things wouldn't end well for me, so I made a video an uploaded it to every news outlet and social media site in the state to make sure my side of the story was heard. Then I chugged a vial of custom made poison and well, here I am."

"Shit, kid, that's pretty fucking epic," you said once she finished her story. "At least ya went out on yer own terms. Not everyone gets to say that. And ya took all those jerk-offs with ya, so at least ya got yer revenge before the Law caught up to ya."

"I would've preferred to take a few more with me," she admitted. "But at least I'm going down in serial killer history, right alongside Elizabeth Bathory, Jack the Ripper, and that radio host from New Orleans who died in 1933."

Did you hear that right? "How the fuck's a kid like you know so much about serial killers?" That was honestly a bit disturbing. How old was she? Twelve?

"Well for one thing, I'm not a kid," she said casually. "I'm 24. As for how I know about so many serial killers, call it boredom. Ya look up some weird shit when you're self-isolating during Quarantine."

"Quarantine? Am I missing something?" What the Hell was she talking about?

"Oh, just a series of plague-like events that honestly made me think the End Times are coming," the jackalope chick replied. "Between the Corona Virus Pandemic, massive forest fires spewing more shit than a chainsmoker, and the general anarchy of the political spheres, just be glad you didn't live to see 2020."

"Haha, I'll take yer word for it, Toots," you snickered. "Sounds like it's all gone ta shit up there."

You made small talk with the jackalope chick for a couple blocks more until the two of yaz made it to the "Happy Hotel", the passion project of Princess Charlotte "Charlie" Magne, heiress to the throne of Hell. She wanted to prove it was possible to "redeem" demons so everyone could go to Heaven. You honestly didn't think it was possible, but ya didn't have the heart to tell her that to her face. You'd never admit it, but she was a sweet kid. If she hadn't been born in Hell, she'd probably go to Heaven when she died.

Still supporting the New Arrival with your right arms, you opened the French doors with a left, easily spotting Charlie and her girlfriend/assistant Vaggie as soon as you both crossed the threshold. "Hey, Princess! We need a sewing kit over here!" You called loudly, instantly regretting it when the jackalope chick flinched her head away with a groan of pain. Shit, you forgot that rabbits had super-sharp hearing. That probably made the pain she was already in fucking worse! "Sorry! Sorry!" You made sure to lower your voice as you apologized.

"S'okay," she muttered. "Need to sit." Nodding, you led her to one of the comfy couches in the lobby. Half a sec later, Vaggs and Charlie joined the two of you, both looking pretty concerned.

"What happened?" First words outta Vaggie's mouth.

"She's a New Arrival," you explained while Charlie took a needle and a spool of black thread outta the sewing kit. "Think she hit her head when she Fell. She's got a couple bad rips on her face, and one on the right foot. She was limping the whole way here."

"Okay, I'm going to stitch up the seam running down your nose first," Charlie said in the most calming voice she could muster. "Let me know if it hurts too much."

"M'kay," the girl replied tiredly. You could see the fucking shadows under her eyes, and the fabric that acted like her skin was fucking black! Poor chick really needed to sleep after this.

"So, you got a name?" Vaggs asked.

"Hate my name," the chick replied. "Call me whatever."

"... We'll come up with something," Charlie promised her. "In the meantime, I'm Charlie, and this is my girlfriend, Vaggie. Welcome to the Happy Hotel!"

"Thanks."

"I think that the rip in your cheek is going to need a patch," Vaggie said, taking several swatches of fabric outta the kit. "Let's see... we've got pink, red, magenta, purple, black-"

"Purple, please." The Jackalope replied. A moment later, Vaggs passed a square of purple felt to Charlie, who was half-finished with stitching up the rip in the middle of her face. You let the chick hold one of your hands for comfort while the princess worked. You could only guess that the fabric skin had nerve endings in it, because every time she pushed the needle through the edges and pulled them together to close the rip, her left eyelid would twitch involuntarily and she'd briefly grip your hand a little tighter before easing up again.

After a few minutes, Charlie was done with the first rip, hiding the final knot in the chick's hairline. You had to hold the long purple fringe out of the way since the Jackalope clearly didn't have the energy to do it herself. Then she was stitching on the patch, and the chick simply closed her eyes so she wouldn't see the needle so close to her eye.

Meanwhile, Vaggie took a second needle and thread and stitched up the rip on the chick's right foot. "So what should we call her?" she asked, thinking she'd fallen asleep. "Maybe Jackie? Since she's a Jackalope?"

"Nah, too obvious," You said, shaking your head. "Maybe Cyanide? She did say she took out a bunch of suckers with poison. Herself included."

"That might explain the markings running from her bottom lip to her chin," Charlie mused. "And the color of her sclera. But not everyone likes to be reminded of how they died every time someone addresses them. Maybe... Zelda?"

"Nah, we need something simple and easy to remember," you objected. "Something like..." You looked over her face, the delicate stitches standing out along the bridge of her nose. "Stitches. That's it! Stitches!"

Vaggie and Charlie blinked, then smiled in agreement. "It _does_ suit her," Vaggs said with a smile. "And you did a great job on the stitches, hun."

"Thanks, Vaggie," Charlie said with a soft blush. "And I think you're onto something there, Angel. Stitches it is."

"Think she'll wanna stay?" You asked, hoping she would.

"Hopefully she will," Charlie said. "And maybe she'll be open to the idea of redemption as well."

"Here's to hoping." Vaggie agreed, reaching out to pet Stitches' ears. "Aw, they're so soft! It's like a Velveteen Rabbit!"

"Hm?" You hummed curiously, reaching up to pet her ears yourself. Your heart instantly melted at how soft and velvety they were.

And hey, maybe having her around would help liven up this dump! "Welcome to Hell, Stitches. We'll take good care of yaz."


End file.
